


Fatherhood

by chris_kun



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hybrid Technoblade, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, adoptive father phil, but nothing graphic, sleepy bois inc family AU, there's a reason they end up with him, they're family your honor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chris_kun/pseuds/chris_kun
Summary: Phil had always wanted to be a dad. He had always imagined what it would be like, holding your child for the first time. What he didn't expect was to pick said child up from his doorstep in the middle of the night.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, No Romantic Relationship(s), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 56
Kudos: 518





	1. Wilbur

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, here we are! My first fic for the MCYT fandom.  
> I don't know how often I'll be able to update yet, but I'm really excited for this one. The found family dynamics with these guys are just too good to pass on.

Phil had always wanted to be a father one day.

Back in his childhood, he had enjoyed playing out little families with their dolls just as much as his sisters had, caring for his ‘children’ with the same love and dedication he was still known today to put into everything he did.

His mother had told him one day, while he was sat on her lap in front of a crackling fire, how she could see the beautiful grandchildren he would raise her, the soft movement of her hand in his hair accompanying the pictures of these kind, brave people he was destined to love.

He had asked her, enveloped in the wonder that overtook him every time he was confronted with her gift, about the person he would be raising these children with. About the woman who would give him the gift of a family.

He hadn’t been surprised when his mother didn’t answer his questions. Not many truths about the future could be spoken out loud without changing it, and none knew the limits of his mother’s abilities better than herself.  
He’d accepted her silence with a hug ad the request to go up to his room to play, unaware of the emotion in the eyes watching his retreating form.

As Phil stared down at the squirming bundle on his doorstep, that conversation all these years ago was the last thing on his mind.

He didn’t think back to the warm living room as he bent down to pick up the way too cold blanket wrapped around an only slighter warmer baby.

A _baby_. A _human child_. What the fuck. What the _fuck_.

He didn’t think of his own mother as his eyes wandered around the dark streets of his neighborhood, the few torches scattered around outlining not a single shadow of the person who had left their _baby_ on his _doorstep_.

Phil’s mind turned to autopilot the moment his front door closed behind him, locking out the cold night as well as any potential baby deliverer.  
He carried said baby into his living room, gingerly lowering both of them onto the old couch in its center. He carefully started peeling away the, as he could now see, yellow blanket, flinching at the high-pitched cries his actions caused. But the fabric was cold and kind of wet to the touch, and so all he could do was speed up the process so it – he, Phil could see now that it was definitely a he – would be comfortable again as soon as possible.

As if on cue, the moment a new blanket was wrapped around his little body (the fuzzy cream colored one Phil offered to guests sleeping on the couch), the baby settled down again, his cries first turning into hiccups and finally contempt gurgling sounds.

For the first time, Phil really looked at the little boy in his arms.

Little was definitely the right word for him.

A shock of dark hair covered the top of a head barely bigger than Phil’s palm. A tiny fist, which had somehow escaped the blanket cocoon rubbed at tired looking blue eyes. Ale skin was scrunched up cutely around a button nose.

Phil had held babies before, both of his nieces having barely been earth side for more than a few hours before they had landed in his arms.  
Somehow, he seemed even smaller than them. More fragile.

Still, as the tiny mouth opened in a yawn, all of Phil’s worries, questions and concerns disappeared for a split second.  
An amazed smile spread across his face as he poked his finger at the little fist gently, widening to the point where he could almost feel his cheeks start to hurt when the tiny fingers wrapped around his in a grip that was stronger than expected.

“Hey there little guy. What are you doing here?” he asked.

The baby yawned again, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Has been an exciting day for you, hm? Let’s find a place where you can take a nap, alright?”

The boy held securely to his chest, Phil rose from his seat and made his way into the kitchen, where he gabbed the basket he took to the market on Sundays. He set it up on the table before he went to grab a pillow from his bedroom. Struggling with his one free hand, he laid out what he hoped would be a comfortable replacement for an actual crib and placed the baby inside, sighing with relief when he saw that he had already fallen asleep.

The relief didn’t hold on for long.

As soon as the immediate problem of caring for the baby was resolved, the spinning o his thoughts started picking up again with an even quicker pace. It felt as if he had found the eye of the storm for a second, only for the win to shift and pick him up again.

Who would just leave their son out in the night on someone’s doorstep? Who would leave their son on _Phil’s_ doorstep, of all people? He didn’t even know anyone who had been pregnant. Scratch that, he didn’t know anyone in this village period.  
He had only moved here a few month ago, after giving up his job as a teacher and leaving the place he grew up in for the sake of seeing more of the world.

Other than his hometown, this place was mostly inhabited by descendants of the Hero race, great adventurers and builders. They were nothing like the villagers Phil had been raised amongst of, and their customs and lifestyle had always fascinated him.

What if this was just another part of the Hero life h didn’t know about? Giving your child away so you weren’t tied down?  
No, Phil thought, this probably wasn’t it. He’d seen kids around the village, both to Hero and non-hero parents. And even if it was, it still wouldn’t explain why Phil had been chosen.

Deciding that there had to be another explanation, he wandered back into the living room with the intention of adding a few logs to the fire, but stopped in his tracks when he saw something white peek out from under the discarded yellow blanket.

An envelope. How could he have missed that?

The fire forgotten, he picked up what he hoped would be containing the information needed to clear up this mess, once again settling down on his couch.

On the front of the envelope, his name was written in shaky letters.

_Please say you’ll pick him up again._

With hands that were a bit less calm than he’d like to admit, Phil ripped it open.

_Dear Mister Watson_

_I know you probably have a lot of questions right now. And the biggest one is probably: Whose fucking baby do I have?  
At least I hope you’re asking that. Because that means what I planned has worked out._

_Well, I guess if it doesn’t you will never read this letter anyway._

_My name is Julia. You probably remember me, it wasn’t that long ago that you saw me every day. (You probably also remember me because you were a really good teacher.)_

_I never really told you about my home life, did I? If I’m quite being honest with you, I don’t really want to do so now either. No use to it now that it is neither of our homes anymore. So let’s just say it wasn’t good._

_Not to sound like the edgy teenager you probably think I am, but that town was suffocating me. That shitty town with its shitty people in that shitty godforsaken valley had me trapped, and I have to be honest with you, I was planning on leaving weeks before I found out I was pregnant._

_I decided so the moment you announced to us that you would be doing so too._

_So when I found out about the baby, it was just another reason to get the fuck out of there. I knew that whatever I did, I couldn’t let them grow up the way I did._

_I wanted to tell you, on your last day there. I knew you’d help me out if I asked. Of course you would._

_But I wanted to do it on my own. I wanted to be independent for once in my life._

_I told you goodbye with the other kids, and I wrote down the coordinates of your new place for if I ever wanted to write you a letter. Didn’t think it would be one like this, though._

_A week later, I was on my way too._

_At first, it went okay. I think I was in my fourth month when I left, and while morning sickness and sore feet weren’t exactly a pleasant experience, I was contempt with travelling from place to place, using both the money I had taken from home and the few emeralds I earned from odd jobs here and there.  
The problem came when I was too far along to do most of these jobs, and taverns wouldn’t rent out rooms to heavily pregnant, lonesome teenagers. _

_I had spent several nights sneaking into barns and sheds after nightfall before someone told me about the nunnery._

_High up on a hilltop, the clerics run an orphanage and birthing house, set up to hep the less fortunate.  
I told them that I was eighteen, and that my husband and I lived on a far-off farm with no one around who knew about childbirth. Of course he couldn’t join me, because someone had to stay with the animals._

_They assigned me the very same room I am sitting in right now._

_Sister Andrea says that I’m due in less than a week. I am scared.  
Not just of childbirth, even though that scares me more than most things. But also f what comes after._

_We can’t stay here. They would take away my child the moment they find out that I am neither married nor eighteen. And I reuse to let them be raised as an orphan.  
But we won’t survive on our own either, I learned that on my travels._

_Which brings me to the unfortunate situation you are in now, Mister Watson._

_I’m not able to raise my child. I am asking you to do so for me._

_I am asking you because you are kind, and I trust you, and because I have nobody else I could ask._

_Believe me, there is nothing I wouldn’t do to put you into this situation. But I need to keep my baby safe. I haven’t met this person yet, but I already love them so much. And deep down I know that you’ll love them too._

_I know that this is a lot to ask. Too much, really. I’m sorry. But I hope that you understand. If you don’t now, maybe you will one day. Either way, I know you will be good to them._

_As for me, I don’t really know yet what I’ll do._

_My baby’s father was a hero. During the few nights we spent together, he told me of the worlds he’s seen. Maybe I’ll go and see them for myself. I’m not much of a hero, but I’ve always been curious. It’s something you taught me to be._

_It will always be the biggest pain of my life that I won’t see my child grow up. But you will. And I’m glad you will._

_I don’t know what you’ll name them, but I always liked the sound of Rose. Or maybe Sarah. I don’t have a particular boy’s name in mind, but I do remember that you told us once how you’ve always liked Wilbur. I like that name too. It has a nice ring to it._

_Please tell Rose, or Sarah, or Wilbur, whatever their name will be, that I love them. I’m sure that I will do so too, when I get to hold them, but they probably won’t remember that. Maybe it’s for the better._

_I’m sorry Mister Watson, that I won’t be telling you all of this in person. Maybe one day I will meet the two of you again, and you can curse me out for as long as you’d like._

_Until then, take care. Both of you._

_I know you’ll be a great dad._

_-Julia_

Phil’s head felt empty.

He knew that it wasn’t, he was aware of the thoughts running at hundreds of mile per hour through his brain, but whatever was going on up there was beyond his comprehension.

His head felt empty, but it also felt so full, and it got fuller and fuller util he was sure it would be bursting any minute now.

With shaking hands, he turned the page, starting the letter again from the top.  
Of course he remembered Julia. Bright, soft-spoken Julia. She had been supposed to graduate this summer. She had turned sixteen only weeks before he left. Before she did, apparently.

His heart ached for this girl and the hardships she had faced. And while he felt anger for all the people who had hurt her, who had judged her, he didn’t blame her for the decision she had been driven to. How could he? She was a _child_.

Finally, his eyes settled on a paragraph close to the end.

Wilbur. He _had_ always liked that name.

“Wilbur.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips.  
“Wilbur,” he said again.

“It’s a nice name.”

Phil turned with a soft yelp at the voice. “Mum?”

Indeed, there at his kitchen table, sat his mother, her hand resting on the blanket covering the sleeping baby.

“It fits him.”

Ignoring her comment, Phil walked over and sat across from her.

“What are you doing here, mum?” he asked.

“Isn’t that obvious, darling?”

“You knew this would happen,” Phil sighed.

“I did.”

“So you let yourself in?”

“You seemed occupied,” she said, gesturing to the paper still gripped tightly in his hands. Wordlessly, he passed over the letter to her. She took it with a grateful nod.

While his mother was reading, Phil set up some water on the stove and pulled out two cups. By the time she was finished, the tea had settled his stomach a bit, and his hands had finally stopped shaking.

“That poor girl” his mother said, setting the letter down on the table. She looked like she wanted to say more but decided against it. Instead, she got up from her chair and walked around the table, wrapping his still sitting form in a tight hug.  
Phil had outgrown her ages ago, and so his head found her shoulder perfectly as it dropped heavily against her.

“What am I supposed to do mum?” he asked desperately.

“You know that I can’t tell you, love,” his mother sighed, “but I know that you will find the answer yourself if you look deep enough.”

Phil laughed dryly. “You’re so cryptic sometimes, you know that?”

His mother joined him with a snort. “Part of the job I guess.”

He rolled his eyes. “Which one, clairvoyant or parent?”

He flinched a bit when a gentle hand lifted his chin off her shoulder and turned his head toward the makeshift crib. “Would you like to find out?” she asked softly.

With another sigh, he unwrapped himself from his mother’s arms. (He wondered, briefly, if there had ever been a point in his life where he’d sighed even nearly as often as he did that night. He doubted it.)  
He carefully pulled the basket closer to himself. The baby, Wilbur, was still sleeping peacefully. His pink lips were parted slightly, and from time to time a little sound escaped them while breathing.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to be a father. What if I do everything wrong?”

If his gaze would leave the boy in front of him, he would see his mother smiling. But it doesn’t, not for a single moment, and so all he notices is the amused tone of her voice as she tells him “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Nobody is ready to be a parent, not truly. You can try to be prepared, of course, but you will make mistakes either way. Things will go wrong. But as long as you love your child, and you keep loving them through all these ups and downs and lefts and rights… then it is the most beautiful thing in the world, to be a parent. Do you think you are ready for that? To love him?”

Infront of a crackling fire, Phil’s fingers found their way to the soft shock of dark hair on Wilbur’s head, carding through it softly. And as he looked at the little boy in front of him, he for the first time didn’t think of him as _the baby_ , or even _Wilbur_. Instead, a new word flashed up in his mind.

“Yes,” Phil said, as he looked down at his son. “Yeah, I can do that.”


	2. Technoblade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur is two, and Phil would do anything to get his son to sleep through a night. Even if it means wandering through unknown parts of the forest to tire him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fandom: Wil  
> Me, still stuck in my soothouse phase from years ago: W I L L

Phil was exhausted.

As his feet dragged across the forest floor, he found it harder and harder to keep his eyes focused enough to notice the rocks and branches littering it, until he was sure he was tripping over more than he was evading.

Next to him, Wilbur didn’t seem to have the same problem.   
The toddler’s short legs were keeping up with his father’s pace seemingly with ease. Not only that, but he was actually bouncing, his excited brabbling matching the wild waving of his scrawny arms.

For a moment, Phil marveled at the sight.

It felt like only yesterday that Wilbur had learned to walk in the first place. He thought back to those first steps, taken across their backyard.   
A few years back, he hadn’t even known that he was able to experience a pride as strong as he had felt in that moment. But now, almost three years after his son had come into his life, he couldn’t imagine a day without feeling it.

He felt pride every time he looked at Wilbur. Every single one of the boy’s movements reminded Phil how much he adored him, how much the boy truly meant to him.  
Phil had started loving his son the moment he met him, and he had not stopped since.

That didn’t mean that Wilbur could not bring him to the brink of his sanity sometimes.

The last few weeks, Wilbur had developed a very persistent aversion to sleep. And if Wilbur wasn’t sleeping, neither was his father. Which was the reason the two of them found themselves in the woods surrounding the village right now. After another long night of lullabies, warm milk, and more bedtime stories than he could count proving futile, Phil had decided that the only way he was getting his son into bed that evening was to tire him out enough during the day.

Normally he would have opted to ask some of the other parents of the community to take Wilbur for the day, killing two birds with one stone by letting Will spend time with his friends and also maybe getting in a few hours of shut-eye in for himself. Eret’s parents had even reminded him recently that they still owed him one after the boys’ sleepover during the couple’s date night a few weeks ago.  
But the chickenpox were making their rounds recently, and the only thing Phil could need less than an awake child right now was a sick one.

Hence, the forest.

Back when he himself had been a kid with a little too much energy to spare, Phil’s father had brought him outside too. They had built treehouses and collected mushrooms and nuts, and on one memorable occasion he had even taught him how to track the footprints of a passing boar.

Phil remembers falling into bed almost instantly on these days, the excitement and exhaustion of their adventures catching up with him as soon as they arrived home.

Wilbur was of course too young to do most of these things. But that didn’t mean that the unknown environment didn’t excite him.

“Dad, look!”

Phil’s gaze followed his son’s outstretched arm to where it pointed at a small bird sitting in one of the oak trees surrounding them. “Birdie,” Wilbur exclaimed.

Phil crouched down to be at eye level with him. “Yes, that’s a bird. Good job buddy! Can you tell me what color the bird has?”

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed in a way that looked almost serious as he stared at the bird intently. “Blue,” he answered after a while.

“Well done,” Phil said, “it’s blue!”

Wilbur cheered, the sound carrying through the trees and alarming the bird. With a little chirp it left the branch it was siting on and flew deeper into the trees.

“No,” Wilbur shouted, rushing after it instantly.

It took Phil’s tired mind a second to register the movement, but when he did, he followed Wilbur hastily. He didn’t tell him o stop or slow down. After all, the whole point of the day was to keep Will active. Instead, he just made sure his eyes didn’t leave the small body scurrying around, always staying a few paces behind him.

He didn’t know these parts of the woods. In fact, he was pretty sure he had never been there before. But his communicator was nestled in his pocket, securing their means to find a way back home, and so he didn’t feel worried as they breached deeper into unknown territory.

The area around their village was extraordinarily safe after all. Mobs only really spawned in the few deep caves down to the south, and the ones that would appear from time to time during the nights were not protected from the sun shining through the thinning leaves at this time of the year.

What did worry him though, was the tall, dark purple structure suddenly appearing behind the tree line.

He called out to his son to wait for him, but Wilbur had seen it too, and the curiosity quickened his steps. Phil cursed the fact that legs this short could run that fast as he dashed after him, trying to get a hold of the toddler.

He nearly crashed into him when Wilbur finally stopped in front of the obsidian portal.

Panting, Phil again crouched down to be on Will’s level, this time looking directly into his bog, brown eyes. “Will, you can’t run off like that, okay? You always have to stay with an adult when we’re outside. Otherwise, it can be dangerous,” he explained, making an effort to stay as calm as possible.

Wilbur pouted. “I want to see this thing.”

“I know buddy. But the rules still count. Okay?”

“Okay,” Wilbur answered. He turned around towards the structure, asking: “What is this?”

Phil looked at it too. In front of them stood a broken Nether portal. At least that was what he assumed it was.   
He had never seen one in person, but he recognized the obsidian, and it was common knowledge that that was the material used by the heroes to create pathways to the Nether.

A place neither a villager nor a child belonged in.

The portal itself luckily wasn’t active anymore. A huge chunk of the left side as missing, and several of the obsidian blocks were covered by weirdly bright, purple veins.  
 _Crying obsidian_ , his brain helpfully provided. He had read about it in a book.

Around the portal piles of dark red rocks Phil assumed to be netherrack covered the ground, and between them he spotted a chest. Other than the rest of the structure, the chest looked almost new. The wood it was crafted out of was smooth and shiny, and the lock on the front didn’t have a spot of rust on it.   
It shined almost as much as the gold block sitting behind it.

If Phil knew anything about shiny things, it was that they didn’t just attract animals.

Wilbur let out a pleased squeak, obviously done waiting for his father’s answer to his question, as he walked towards the gold, his hands already moving forward in a grabby motion. Phil expertly scooped him up and held him on his hip, safely out of reaching distance. But apparently, he was not fast enough.

Before he could realize what was happening, the sound of quick steps appeared behind him, followed by a sharp pain in his ankle. “Shit,” Phil cried, securing Wilbur more tightly in his grip as he turned around. For a moment his attacker was nowhere to be found, but as e felt another jolt of pain, in his shin this time, his eyes wandered down to recognize a wooden sword as the cause. A wooden sword held by… a child?

Judging by the pink hair covering his elongated ears, and the small tusks peeking out of the corners of his mouth, the boy in front of him was a hybrid of some sort. The clothes he was wearing were ripped and dirty, and while his shirt could have easily fit two of him, his pants clung too tightly to his thin frame, exposing pale calves littered with scratches and bruises where they stopped just under his knees.

Knees that were, just like the rest of the boy, trembling in fear.

“Don’t touch my things.”

Phil had expected the sound to match the frightened child in front of him. But the words were spoken steadily, almost deadpan, no sign of his obvious terror to be found in the boy’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” Phil said, raising the hand that was not holding Wilbur in a placating manner. “We didn’t know that it was yours. I‘m Phil. What’s your name?”

The boy tilted his head, his brown eyes mustering the two of them with an intensity that felt wrong coming from someone this young. Finally, he nodded to himself, lowering the wooden sword still pointing towards Phil a bit more to the ground. “Technoblade.”

Phil did his best not to react to the strangeness of the name, opting for a nod and a smile instead of one of the dozens of questions on his mind. Of course, his son had other plans.

Up until that point, Wilbur had stayed uncharacteristically quiet. Even at his young age he had sensed the tension in the situation, choosing to keep his head buried n the crook of his father’s neck. But now, he lifted it slowly, giggling as he finally looked down at the strange boy. “That’s a silly name.”

Phil was just about to chastise him, worried that the comment would cause the kid to lash out in anger, or worse, run away from them.

Instead, Technoblade’s head tilted in confusion. “It is?”

In any other situation, the young boy’s expression would have been endearing. But right now, Phil felt a pang of sadness in his chest at hearing his words.   
Technoblade had obviously not had a lot of contact with the people from around here, if any at all. Why was he all alone in an area he didn’t come from?

He gave Technoblade a look he hoped would be reassuring.

“It’s not silly. We just haven’t heard a name like this before. I think it’s a very nice name.”

Technoblade smiled proudly. “Mom says it’s a name for a warrior. It will strike fear in battle.”

Phil frowned. “Did she now?”

He dd not know if he should be concerned by the boy’s statement or impressed by its eloquence. He settled on neither, instead he started to scan the trees surrounding them in search of the mentioned woman. “Where is your mum, Technoblade?”

The boy shrugged. “At home, probably.”

So he did have a home at least. “Did you get lost? Do you need help to find back?”

“I can’t go back,” Technoblade answered, and even though his voice stayed as monotone as before, his face once more betrayed the illusion of his calm words, the image of a scared child through and through.

“Why can’t you go back?” Phil asked.

Technoblade looked down at the floor, kicking weakly at a small pile of netherrack. “I’m weak. I failed the trials. There is no place in the army of the Blood God for a burden, and neither is there place in the trib. So they sent me away.”

The tears dripping onto the floor between small, worn-out boots mirrored the ones rising up in Phil’s eyes, though he was sure that his came out of a place of anger rather than sadness. He swallowed heavily. How could someone do this to a child? Just leave him out in the wilderness to fend for himself?

Who was he kidding? They left him out here to die.

Phil didn’t know the tribe Technoblade was speaking of, nor did he know what these trials entailed, but the cruelty of these people shocked him to his core.

With shaking hands, he set down Wilbur next to him. His son looked up to him with big, confused eyes, and a wav of protectiveness crashed over him. Three years ago, the situation he was in would have left Phil completely helpless. But now, as he looked at the face of his son, as he felt the trust this boy, _his child_ , put into him in this strange and scary situation, the decision he was facing didn’t feel like one at all.

Slowly, Phil sunk to his knees, gently putting his hand onto Technoblade’s shoulder. The boy flinched, but did not pull away. Phil smiled.

“How would you like coming with us for now? I know we’re not your tribe, but I have a house in the village nearby with enough space. And I think Will here would like the company of another kid. Right, Will?”

Phil’s eyes didn’t leave Technoblade, but he heard the excitement in Wilbur’s voice as he asked: “Sleepover?”

Phil laughed. “Yeah, like a sleepover. Just a bit longer. What do you think Techno?”

The boy perked up at the nickname, but the motion vanished as quick as it came. “Why would you want a burden like me?”

Sighing softly, Phil reached up the hand not on Technoblade’s shoulder, using two fingers to lift up the boy’s chin and meet his eyes. “I can’t promise much. We’re not rich, and I’m not a famous hero or anything. It will probably be very different o how you grew up. But I promise that you will never be a burden to me. If you decide to come with us, we will be a family. We’ll stick together, no matter what. Would that be alright with you?”

The teardrops on Technoblade’s tears had evolved to streams during Phil’s words. The boy’s eyes were shining with hope, but there was also so much fear and apprehension. Phil silently prayed that he had not been hurt too much to trust someone, just this once.  
He was more than willing to earn his trust for anything that came after.

A few seconds passed without Technoblade giving his answer, and Phil was starting to grapple with the fact that he might have to bring the boy to safety against his will.

To his surprise, it wasn’t Technoblade who spoke up eventually.

Wilbur ducked under his father’s arm to get closer to the other boy, mustering him intently as he said: “Don’t be sad.” Then. With a determined nod to himself, Wilbur’s short arms reached out and wrapped around Technoblade’s middle in a tight hug. His dark hair barely reached the other’s chin. “Okay?”

Technoblade stared down at Wilbur in bewilderment for a few seconds. Finally, a small giggle escaped his lips. Wilbur laughed with him.

Gently, gentler that Phil ever would have expected from a child attacking him just a few minutes ago, Technoblade peeled away Wilbur’s arms from his waist. “Okay.”

He bent down to pick up his sword from where he had dropped it during the hug and walked a few steps towards the chest next to the portal. Out of it, he pulled a shiny, golden crown. It was quite obviously too big for him, but that didn’t stop the boy from placing it on his head, the metal immediately slipping down and covering his eyes. Phil reached out to fix it. “Ready to go?”

Technoblade nodded, briefly looking back at the portal before following Phil as he started his way down the path to the village with Wilbur by his left. The toddler was already talking excitedly once more, pointing things out to Technoblade with the hand not wrapped around his father’s.

There were a lot of things Phil would have to do once they arrived. Technoblade needed a bed, clothes, and other necessities. Would he need to enroll him in school already? Phil had no idea how old he was, and somehow, he doubted Technoblade was any wiser. Judging by his size and his speech he could be anywhere between four and seven years old, maybe younger considering how some hybrids aged differently to humans.

Which led him to his next problem. The boy was a hybrid. While he had been surprised by the lack of discrimination in this particular village, he was aware that hybrids were looked down upon in most parts of the world. And even though his friends and neighbors may not think that way, Phil would still have to explain how Technoblade had laded in his home to them. Not to mention his family. He really needed to contact his mother.

As Phil contemplated the challenges he was about to face, he felt a second small hand slip into his own.

And as Technoblade tentatively returned the smile Phil sent him, all of these worries slipped to the back of his mind.

Right now, all he needed to do was get his sons back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaack. Sorry it took so long.  
> Man am I glad this story is not SMP-compliant. So much has changed since last time, and I refuse to let my OC turn into a damn refrigerator.  
> Sorry to those who hoped for twin content tho xD  
> Anyway, scream at me about seepybois on tumblr if you want: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/christhebish


	3. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade's first day of school makes Phil consider his sons' relationship, and how great it is how they get along. If only he could now seperate them for long enough to actually get his eldest into the classroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaccckkkkkk.  
> So sorry guys, school has been a real bitch recently.  
> Scream at me for making you wait if you want: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/christhebish  
> I'm currently looking for a new beta for this story so if anyone's interested hmu.  
> Enjoy!!!
> 
> (Also I apologize to the Tommy stans y'all will have to wait a bit longer.)

It took Technoblade less time to get accustomed to his life with Phil and Wilbur than anyone could have imagined.

Not that there were no parts of it he sometimes had trouble with. Certain manners or rules seemed to outright confuse him at first, and it often took quite some work to get him used to the more… luxurious aspects of his new home. Phil remembered vividly the particular aversion to taking baths Technoblade had shown the first few weeks, the countless arguments with the boy almost always resulting in Phil just dumping a bucket of water over his head in the backyard and calling it a day.

But ultimately, no amount of missed social cues or misguided actions could overshadow the light Technoblade brought into their lives.

His introverted nature was a stark contrast to Wilbur’s bubbly, excited energy, but that did not stop Techno from drawing people in with a charm that rivaled his adoptive brother.  
The kids of the village were intrigued by the vast knowledge of the young boy. Most of the time they practically begged him to tell them about the mobs he had fought in training, or to show them how to spar with his precious wooden sword.

To the adults on the other hand, Technoblade stood out through his own curiosity.  
Every new thing he encountered, no matter how big or small, he treated with the same level of interest as the last one.  
From the fisherman’s rod to the bubbling cauldrons in the cleric’s tower, he looked at everything with that same glint of fascination in his dark eyes. And whoever was closest to him at that point would become the object of his questioning, each answer rewarded with a thoughtful nod and, more often than not, a follow up.

But while all these things managed to catch his attention, nothing was able to keep it in the way Phil’s library did.

Phil had always prided himself on his collection. Back when he had been a teacher, he had made it a point to read into at least one topic he knew little about every month, because he had always believed that to educate the next generation, you had to keep educating yourself.

Nowadays he didn’t have the time to read as much, his little farm and of course the boys taking up most of his days. But that didn’t stop him from still buying everything that interested him off the travelling bookbinders.  
Phil enjoyed reading, he really did. But there was just something about _owning books_ that spoke to him. The knowledge that the secrets of the worlds, both real and imaginary, laid there, at the tips of his fingers. Just there for him to access.

It was intoxicating.

So when Technoblade had halted his exploration of the house in the living room, back during that first night, standing in front of the big bookshelf and softly caressing the leatherbound backs in wonder, Phil had jumped the opportunity to cultivate a common interest.

Of course, Technoblade’s tribe had not taught him useless skills such as reading, for it would be of no use in battle. But the boy was very smart, and even more determined, and so it did not take long before he could be found reading books twice the size of his head in front of the fireplace almost daily, chewing on his lips as he contemplated every word.

After a few weeks Phil had realized that he would probably be through their library in a matter of months if he would not provide another way of sharpening the kid’s mind.

That same day, he took his son to see the village’s head teacher.

As smitten with Technoblade as everyone else, the woman did not have to be asked twice to enroll him. Praising his eloquence and thirst for knowledge the whole time, she had cleared out a desk for Technoblade to use the following Monday before they had even had a chance to leave the classroom.

Technoblade was not exactly thrilled at the idea of leaving his newfound family to spend his day with strangers. Phil knew he was scared they would abandon him too. That these scars would be there for a long time, if not forever.

But they would not keep him from living fulfilling life. Not on Phil’s watch.

After many reassurances, promises of fun, and maybe a little bit of bribery, they were stood in front of the big house east of the village square that housed their primary school.

It was not a big building. It did not need to be.  
There were only around thirty kids of the ages six to twelve living in the village. Even less teenagers, who were taught across the street.  
Other than in Phil’s hometown, the kids were not even separated in grades. Instead, there were just two teachers working in each building who gave their best to provide an age-appropriate learning environment.

One of these teachers was currently walking towards them from the entrance.

Phil grinned at the sight of the man in front of him. “What the hell are you doing here Benny? Shouldn’t you be with your wife?” he asked, pulling the other into a quick hug. Ben chuckled.

“Vanessa isn’t due for another week. We both agreed that taking a day off my fatherly duties to greet our new student is basically a must,” he said with a wink.

Benjamin Clarke was a big, broad-shouldered man. His red, unruly curls reached almost down to his chin, framing a soft, round face littered with freckles. His light blue eyes had an electrifying, boyish glint in them that almost, but not completely, overshadowed their intelligence.  
He had quickly become one of Phil’s closest friends in the village. They had clicked from the moment Ben had welcomed him into the community, back when he had moved here.

“Besides, it’s just been too long since I’ve seen your ugly mug, big man.”

He was also a bastard.

“Oh, how I hope this kid takes after their mother,” Phil sighed.

“Would make two of us, mate. But enough about us old people.” Ben’s eyes wandered from Phil over to his son. “How are you today, Technoblade?”

Flinching a bit at suddenly being spoken to, Techno answered with a shrug.

“Not that excited yet, hm? I get it. I wouldn’t want to spend the day with boring old Mister Clarke either. But what if I told you that we have something very special in the classroom today?”

His curiosity overtaking, Techno tilted his head. “What?”

Ben leaned in as if he were telling a secret, his voice quieting down to a whisper as he said: “We have tadpoles that have almost turned to frogs now. With little legs and everything.”

Technoblade’s eyes widened in wonder. “Really?” he asked.

Ben nodded. “Yeah. Are you ready to come take a look at them?”

Technoblade’s expression fell. Frantically, he turned to look at Phil, his small hand tightening around his father’s big one. “You will come back, right? You won’t leave me here forever.”

The unspoken addition laid heavy in the air, nearly crushing Phil under its weight. You won’t leave me here _like my mom did_.

Phil carefully pushed back a stray strand of pink hair. “Whatever happens. I will always come back to you, Techno. I swear,” he said firmly. Then, after brief consideration, he pulled out his father’s pocket watch. “You see this short line? When it stands under the twelve, I will pick you up. Not a minute later. Okay?”

Carefully accepting the watch with both hands, Technoblade nodded. “With Wilbur?”

Phil smiled. He had left Wilbur with the neighbors for a few hours, figuring that techno’s first day of school would be hard enough without his baby brother clinging to him and crying that he wanted to go to school too.

“With Wilbur,” he promised. He bent down to place a kiss on his son’s forehead, a thing Technoblade had only recently started to request from him. Phil watched as his small figure followed Ben through the thick wooden doors, and waved goodbye until they closed again behind them.

He felt a strange pang in his heart. Could he really already be missing him?

He shrugged it off. Surely, in a few weeks he would have gotten used to Technoblade’s absence during the mornings. By then the separation pains would have passed.

Over a year later, Phil had come to terms with the fact that he would never be used to not being around his boys.

Wilbur and him were standing in front of the school building amongst a small crowd of other parents and younger siblings, the hot midday sun pressing down on them as they waited for the clock to strike twelve.

Just as every day since that first one, Phil’s body released a tension he was never aware of holding once he saw Technoblade step out of the big entryway. As soon as Wilbur had spotted him too, he released Phil’s hand to race towards his big brother. “Techno! Techno!” he yelled happily. Technoblade caught him with ease when he crashed into him. “Did you have a good day at school Techno?” the three-year-old asked.

Technoblade nodded. “Yes. I learned to calculate with big numbers.”

“How big?” Wilbur asked again, wide-eyed.

“Up to a hundred.”

“Woah.” The only way Phil could describe the expression on Wilbur’s little face was starstruck. “That’s very big.”

Phil, at whose side the boys by now had arrived, agreed: “It _is_ very big. I’m sure you got hungry doing all that thinking.” Technoblade nodded again, this time more enthusiastically. “Alright then, let’s get home,” Phil said, watching as the two boys lead the way down the street towards their house.

It was now Wilbur’s turn to tell Technoblade what he had missed at home, laying out a detailed description of the bug that had found its way into their kitchen during snack time.

“And then it flew – it flew right to my face. And it scared me a lot! But dad said – he said I am way scaryerer because I am sooo big when the bug watches. So I sit very… very… I didn’t move! I was brave like you!”

Even though he had experienced it hundreds of times by now, the way Technoblade looked at Wilbur still managed to take Phil aback.  
He, just like everyone else who had ever listened to Wilbur talk for more than five minutes, knew how much the young boy adored his brother. How he looked up to him.  
Phil was also familiar with the love he felt for his own sisters. The knowledge that he would do just about everything for the three of them.

None of that came even close to the pure devotion Technoblade showed towards his little brother.

Sometimes Phil had the impression that Techno’s whole life revolved around Wilbur. That there was no place, neither in his head nor his heart, for anything or anyone else.  
In a matter of weeks, Wilbur had become the earth to Technoblade’s moon.

Back when he had noticed this development, around three months after finding Technoblade, their co-dependence had worried Phil. He had even talked about it with his mother, during one of her visits. Had told her how he, deep down, was scared that Technoblade’s ability to make friends would suffer under his refusal to spend even an hour of his free time apart from his two-year-old brother.

After all, Phil and his sisters had never been like that. Yes, they were close, and Lizzie and Shannon especially had practically been joined at the hip. But none of them had ever gotten to these extremes.

He would never forget the look his mother had given him. Her words, free of judgement and yet so firm, would stick with him forever.

“Have you ever considered that for you kids, family was a given? _Love_ was a given?”

Back then, they had felt like a punch to the gut. Of course. Was he really questioning how a child who grew up feeling as alone as Technoblade could latch onto the first person who showed them genuine, wholehearted affection? A brother who loved them unconditionally?

_Don’t leave me here like my mom did._

Phil had felt nothing but joy at the fact that Technoblade saw him as his father. His dad. He had never considered that maybe, there came a certain preconception with that title.

Techno had never been let down by a brother. He did have shitty parents though.

Phil should be thankful, he’d thought, that Wilbur would not have to prove himself worthy of Technoblade’s trust the way he still had to. That this hurt boy still had the capacity to just start loving someone so deeply.

That Technoblade had found a way to experience love that truly felt like it was a given.

And so, he had decided to be thankful. He kept that feeling close every time he had to calm Wilbur down from a crying fit after Technoblade had left for school. Every time the older came running from the playground fuming because his classmates refused to include his little brother in their games.

But also every time he saw Technoblade with that same look in his eyes as right now.

Will had finished his story about the bug, which meant it was silence that was broken by Techno’s monotone voice. “Dad, can we go to the field today? Skeppy says he wants to build a treehouse on the edge, which means he wants to trick me into building one. I have an idea how I can trap him in there.”

Skeppy, a child living two streets over, was in Phil’s opinion the most surprising friend his son had made in school.  
The loud, hyper demeanor of the kid was in every way the antithesis to Technoblade’s calm, observing nature. Still, the two of them got along like a house on fire.

While Technoblade saw the other’s attempts at pranks as a challenge, rather than an annoyance like most other kids, Skeppy’s stubbornness combined with his outgoing nature basically required him to be dragged to every social gathering their age group had to offer. An exchange they both seemed to only profit from.

“As long as you promise to let him out again,” Phil answered after some thought, “I see no reason why not. We can take the sparring gear too if you want.”

Technoblade nodded excitedly. “I promise.”

“Alright then, that’s settled. But first, lunch.”

The three of them arrived at their home, where Phil had a stew bubbling on the stove already.

After they had all eaten, Wilbur growing quiet for the first time that day as he stuffed his mouth with meat and carrots, Phil laid the toddler down for his nap as Techno sat on the couch with a book. Phil recognized it as the one about sea creatures they had bought last week.  
Phil had been reducing Wilbur’s naptime steadily over the past month, hoping to have him off in time for Techno’s summer vacation three weeks away. So it came to no surprise when they were already out the front door again just after 2 pm. Neither of the boys could be kept in the house any longer.

When they arrived at the big field west of the village, it was still relatively empty, the few families present sticking closely to the shadows cast by the tall oak trees of the forest bordering it.

Phil was sure it would fill up soon. The playground near the marketplace was way too hot this time of the year.

Technoblade had spotted his friends by now, and with Wilbur hot on his heels he made his way over to them. Phil smiled when he heard the little _halloo_ being met by several young voices.  
Looking around in search of a spot where he could keep an eye on the two, he spotted a familiar shock of red locks next to a small patch of cornflowers.

He wandered over and let himself plop down on the grass, setting his backpack down by his feet. “Hey there guys.”

Leaning against the trunk of a particularly large tree, Ben sat across his sister-in-law, Andrea. Phil leaned over quickly to peck her on the cheek before he lightly tapped his knuckles against his friend’s outstretched fist. Ben smiled tiredly. “Hey Phil,” he said, followed by a quieter greeting by Andrea.

Ben looked, for the lack of a better word, like shit. Dark rings expanded so far under his eyes they almost met his freckled cheeks. His skin looked papery and pale. But when Phil asked: “You okay, mate?” the man just smiled again with a nod.

“Yeah, just a bit beat. The little rascal’s been keeping me up.” He gestured towards the patch of cornflowers, where his son was meticulously picking apart blue petals in his chubby little hands. Andrea’s youngest, who with his fourteen months was only a few weeks older than the boy, watched him intently. Neither baby seemed to have noticed Phil’s arrival.

While Phil knew from experience that a kid that age was bound to tire someone out, he also knew that this was not the whole of it. With his son’s first birthday only five days ago, the normally cheerful event had also marked a year since the death of Ben’s wife, Vanessa.

The young hero had died in childbirth, a thing Phil later learned not that unlikely considering her medical history.

 _“We knew the risk,”_ Ben had told him back then. _“She was always sure that it was worth it.”_

Still. Expecting something did not prepare you for it actually happening.

Phil didn’t notice at first that Andrea had left, too caught up in his worry about his friend. He spotted her helping the group Techno and Wilbur had joined in hoisting up a heavy log.  
Her eldest son held his baby brother closely, a funny grimace adorned his young face.

Phil figured she had wanted to give them some privacy.

The baby left with them whined slightly when he noticed the disappearance of his friend. Phil bent down to pick the boy up, bouncing him lightly on his knee.

“Hey there buddy. Your dad is a stubborn asshole, you know that? Not even asking your uncle Phil for help when he needs it,” he said in a silly voice.

While Ben’s son giggled, his father didn’t seem to be as amused. “Don’t swear in front of my fucking kid.”

Phil raised an eyebrow at the irony, but stayed quiet as he waited for the other to continue.

“He’s already one, dude. And even though since Vanny died it sometimes feels like time has stopped, I still can’t ignore how fast he’s growing up. He’s already so big, it’s crazy. Someday he’ll be old enough to go out and be a hero and shit man, I don’t know anything about that. That was supposed to be her job. Like so many things.” He sighed, running his hand over his face. “I just wanna do right by her. By _him_.”

Ben leaned over to pull the infant into his own lap, the movement eliciting a happy gurgle. Phil smiled. “You are. You’re doing so well Benny. Do you remember how lost I was when I got Will? The kid would’ve fucking died probably if it wasn’t for my family and you guys helping me out,” he said. He moved around a little so he could lean against the trunk as well. “You’re doing so much better than I was, and I wasn’t even grieving. He’s got a great dad. And that hero stuff? We’ll figure that out together.”

Other than normal humans like them, descendants of the hero race had a very specific path laid out for them. At eighteen, they would perform a ritual with a cleric. This ritual would grant them the power of respawning, which meant that during their adventures, death was not permanent.

The young heroes would travel the worlds for as many years as they desired, would slay powerful mobs and build grand structures.

But even the most fantastical have their limits.

While the gift of respawning protected them from fire and poison and most battle injuries, it did nothing against weaknesses of the own body. Not even heroes were immune to sickness, old age, or simply the failure of their hearts.

The mercy of the gods did not exceed the human condition.

It did not spare Ben from becoming a widower.

“Well, at least you’ll have to deal with it earlier than me,” Ben said with a slight smirk. Phil’s words seemed to have helped at least a bit.

He shrugged. “Would be great to know how much earlier.”

While Wilbur was certain to be of heroic blood due to his father, (provided Julia had been told the truth by the stranger), Technoblade was a bit of a wild card. While hybrids were generally less likely to be descendants of the hero race, many things the boy remembered about his tribe spoke in favor of at least some heroes in their midst.

Phil followed Ben’s gaze to where Techno was now sparring with a blonde boy who was a bit younger than him. Phil immediately recognized him as Dream, the only child in the village who came even close to keeping up with Technoblade’s skills. Also, a full-blooded hero.

“You’re not seriously trying to tell me this kid is not born for I,” Ben said.

Phil shook his head. “He was just trained too hard.”

Ben’s eyes softened at his words. He opened his mouth, presumably to answer, when his whole body stilled. Slowly, Ben tilted his head. “Do you hear that?”

At first, Phil didn’t realize what he meant, his ears not picking up on any out of place sounds amidst the voices of playing children.

Then – suddenly – a low sound that reminded him of his sister practicing the trumpet back in his childhood.

Followed by the piercing rings of the village bell.


End file.
